Saturday, February 2, 2019

Build The (Other) Wall

If you're new here, this is a weekly column consisting of letters written to my (eventual) grandchildren (who exist) and my great-grandchildren (who don't yet, aka the Stickies) to haunt them after they become grups and/or I'm dead.


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                                                 Glossary  

                                  Who The Hell Is This Guy?

Irregularly Appearing Imaginary Guest Stars 
Marie-Louise -- My beautiful muse  
Iggy -- My designated Sticky
Dana -- My designated gentlereader

"As a city it is always compelling. But every day in Mexico city I give thanks that I am alive." -Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu


Dear (eventual) Grandstickies & Great-Grandstickies (& Gentlereaders),

[This is a long one. That Polar Vortex thingy that has Ohio by the buckeyes as I write this has me trapped in my chambers trying to stay warm. This has left me with plenty of time on my hands as I'm not about to leave Casa de Chaos unless I absolutely have to.]

Let me begin by declaring that I've decided to sort of throw my hat into the ring and forcefully make it clear that I'm kind of running for the office of President of the United States of America. 

I've formed an exploratory committee, I'm consulting with my loved ones, and I've begun a listening tour -- every time I make my weekly trek to Walmart I make a point of speaking to the greeter and engaging my cashier in conversation. 

However, I'm still boycotting the Deli department. Hopefully, your favorite Walmart deli-department is not staffed by employees who seem to have been ordered to wait on customers only if absolutely necessary and to give the worst possible service to anyone foolish enough to request service. My theory is that the point of this is to train the customers to either buy pre-packaged products or just go away. 

And for or the record, I never use the self check out even though this usually results in waiting in a long line with other grumpy old people, many of whom have the unfortunate habit of waiting till the cashier announces the total before pulling out their checkbooks, asking to borrow a pen, and then saying, "How much was that again?"

This allows me to virtue signal that I disapprove of self-checkout lanes, and the subsequent job loss, in not only no-frills joints like WallyWorld but also in my local allegedly full-service, high-priced supermarket, Giant Eagle. Nowadays, full service apparently doesn't necessarily include a cashier. Baggers (my first job, second if you count delivering papers) seem to have been added to the endangered species list.

Sorry... where was I? Oh yeah, announcing my bid for the oval office.

What does this rant and your claim to be running for president have to do with, The wall? asks Dana.
Yeah, Poppa, I don't get it, adds Iggy. (It's like, ninety below zero and most of the school buses wouldn't start.)
Oui, quoi? asks Marie Louise.


Oh... well, having an official opinion on the Donald's, The Wall, is clearly necessary if you're running for anything nowadays. My official position concerning the Donald's, The Wall, is that I'm sticking with the plan I've written about previously.

To summarize, The Wall that I'd like to go down in history for would be one built across the southern border of Mexico, not the USA -- after we invade and set them free from the depredations of the oligarchs and drug lords. Details are available here.

I was recently reminded of this when I stumbled over an article in The Guardian (a left-wing British publication that doesn't have a paywall but begs for either a donation or a subscription at the beginning and end of every article. Apparently, they're not having much better luck at getting readers to toss 'em a few crumbs than I am but at least I'v had the self-respect to reduce my begging to a single Patreon button at the very bottom of my web page. Not that I'm embarrassed or bitter or anything).

The article's about the fact that no matter whoever/whomever (I can never remember which one to use where) the Mexicans elect, or whatever they try, just about everyone's life sucks except for the merry band of oligarchs and drug lords that run the place, in general, and one Carlos Slim in particular, who keep a boot on the neck of the average Mexican citizen.

I suspect that once I make it clear to my fellow Americans that we share a border with a country that's nearly as screwed up as Russia in its own way -- at least they don't have nukes or a Pooteen -- they'll support my invasion plans.


While they don't have nukes or a Pooteen they do have the well-fed Mr. Slim, who has a net worth of $60,000,000,000. If you live in Mexico and want a phone you've gotta' pay (and pay) Mr. Slim to play. Analogy: Imagine what it would be like if our local All-American cable TV monopolies were all owned by the same person, see where I'm coming from?

I propose that after the invasion we sell off Mr. Slim's holdings to the highest bidders. I will then confiscate all of Mr. Slim's ill-gotten gains except for $5,000,000,000 or so. After all, he amassed his fortune legally, technically speaking, and he'll need a few pesos to live on.

This money will be used to pay for a much smaller, The Wall, across the bottom of Mexico till we can straighten Mexico out and then continue our efforts in a southerly direction. (I'll betcha' we have better luck down there than we've had in the Middle East.) There will money left over if we bid the wall building out to private contractors and keep The Gummit out of it as much as possible (they can keep the books).

We're gonna' need money to absorb Mexico into the US. Just putting all those drug lords and corrupted officials responsible for the murders of anyone that got in their way on trial before we execute them is going to cost a fortune.

According to the Guardian, Mr. Slim owns 17% of the New York Times, I wonder how much we can get for selling his stock. If I didn't know better I'd think the NYT was just a tiny bit hypocritical considering they recently devoted a bunch of ink and pixels to beating up on one Ken Griffin for spending $238,000,000 on a penthouse on Central Park South.

They wondered aloud why anyone needed a 24,000 square foot apartment in an editorial masquerading as a news story, actually a couple of articles, and why rich people spend ridiculous amounts of money on ridiculous things.

Answer: None of your fuggin' (*) business. Perhaps they're just laying the groundwork for certain Democrats to run on a Confiscations and Firing Squads platform. I've got a question. If the millions of victims of greed and violence living just south of here pay some of the highest phone bills in the world, why ain't the NYTimes bitching about Mr. Slim?  Poppa loves you.

Have an OK day. 
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(*) Jagoff, a word that doesn't mean what you may think it does, is Pittsburgh(with an h)ese for, well it has many meanings depending on context. It doesn't translate well. If elected president I'm going to promote the word fuggin' as a replacement for its guttural sounding cousin in an attempt to render it as socially acceptable as jagoff is in Pittsburgh (with an h) and get it out of the uh, gutter.  

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©2019 Mark Mehlmauer

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